Heralds of Empire Part 17

"English," they called back doubtfully.

"What have you come for?" insisted Radisson, with a great swelling of his chest.

"The beaver trade," came a faint voice.

Where had I heard it before? Did it rise from the ground in the woods, or from a far memory of children throwing a bully into the sea?

"I demand to see your license," boldly challenged Radisson.

At that the fellows ash.o.r.e put their heads together.

"In the name of the king, I demand to see your license instantly,"

repeated Sieur de Radisson, with louder authority.

"We have no license," explained one of the men, who was dressed with slashed boots, red doublet, and c.o.c.ked hat.

M. Radisson smiled and poled a length closer.

"A s.h.i.+p without a license! A prize-for the taking! If the rascals complain--the galleys for life!" and he laughed softly.

"This coast is possessed by the King of France," he shouted. "We have a strong garrison! We mistook your firing for more French s.h.i.+ps!" Shaping his hands trumpet fas.h.i.+on to his mouth, he called this out again, adding that our Indian was of a nation in league with the French.

The pirates were dumb as if he had tossed a hand grenade among them.

"The s.h.i.+p is ours now, lads," said Radisson softly, poling nearer. "See, lads, the bottom has tumbled from their courage! We'll not waste a pound o' powder in capturing that prize!" He turned suddenly to me--"As I live by bread, 'tis that bragging young dandy-prat--hop-o'-my-thumb--Ben Gillam of Boston Town!"

"Ben Gillam!"

I was thinking of my a.s.sailant in the woods. "Ben was tall. The pirate, who came carving at me, was small."

But Ben Gillam it was, turned pirate or privateer--as you choose to call it--grown to a well-timbered rapscallion with head high in air, jack-boots half-way to his waist, a clanking sword at heel, and a nose too red from rum.

As we landed, he sent his men scattering to the fort, and stood twirling his mustaches till the recognition struck him.

"By Jericho--Radisson!" he gasped.

Then he tossed his chin defiantly in air like an unbroken colt disposed to try odds with a master.

"Don't be afraid to land," he called down out of sheer impudence.

"Don't be afraid to have us land," Radisson shouted up to him. "We'll not harm you!"

Ben swore a big oath, fleered a laugh, and kicked the sand with his heels. Raising a hand, he signalled the watchers on the s.h.i.+p.

"Sorry to welcome you in this warlike fas.h.i.+on," said he.

"Glad to welcome you to the domain of His Most Christian Majesty, the King of France," retorted Radisson, leaping ash.o.r.e.

Ben blinked to catch the drift of that.

"Devil take their majesties!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "He's king who conquers!"

"No need to talk of conquering when one is master already," corrected M.

de Radisson.

"s.h.i.+ver my soul," blurts out Ben, "I haven't a tongue like an eel, but that's what I mean; and I'm king here, and welcome to you, Radisson!"

"And that's what I mean," laughed M. Radisson, with a bow, quietly motioning us to follow ash.o.r.e. "No need to conquer where one is master, and welcome to you, Captain Gillam!"

And they embraced each other like spider and fly, each with a free hand to his sword-hilt, and a questioning look on the other's face.

Says M. Radisson: "I've seen that s.h.i.+p before!"

Ben laughs awkwardly. "We captured her from a Dutchman," he begins.

"Oh!" says Sieur Radisson. "I meant outside the straits after the storm!"

Gillam's eyes widen. "Were those your s.h.i.+ps?" he asks. Then both men laugh.

"Not much to boast in the way of a fleet," taunts Ben.

"Those are the two smallest we have," quickly explains Radisson.

Gillam's face went blank, and M. Radisson's eyes closed to the watchful slit of a cat mouse-hunting.

"Come! Come!" exclaims Ben, with a sudden flare of friendliness, "I am no baby-eater! Put a peg in that! s.h.i.+ver my soul if this is a way to welcome friends! Come aboard all of you and test the Canary we got in the hold of a fine Spanish galleon last week! Such a top-heavy s.h.i.+p, with sails like a tinker's tatters, you never saw! And her hold running over with Canary and Madeira--oh! Come aboard! Come aboard!" he urged.

It was Pierre Radisson's turn to blink.

"And drink to the success of the beaver trade," importunes Ben.

'Twas as pretty a piece of play as you could see: Ben, scheming to get the Frenchman captive; M. Radisson, with the lightnings under his brows and that dare-devil rashness of his blood tempting him to spy out the lad's strength.

"Ben was the body of the venture! Where was the brain? It was that took me aboard his s.h.i.+p," M. Radisson afterward confessed to us.

"Come! Come!" pressed Gillam. "I know young Stanhope there"--his mighty air brought the laugh to my face--"young Stanhope there has a taste for fine Canary----"

"But, lad," protested Radisson, with a condescension that was vinegar to Ben's vanity, "we cannot be debtors altogether. Let two of your men stay here and whiff pipes with my fellows, while I go aboard!"

Ben's teeth ground out an a.s.sent that sounded precious like an oath; for he knew that he was being asked for hostages of safe-conduct while M.

Radisson spied out the s.h.i.+p. He signalled, as we thought, for two hostages to come down from the fort; but scarce had he dropped his hand when fort and s.h.i.+p let out such a roar of cannonading as would have lifted the hair from any other head than Pierre Radisson's.

G.o.defroy cut a caper. The Indian's eyes bulged with terror, and my own pulse went a-hop; but M. Radisson never changed countenance.

"Pardieu," says he softly, with a pleased smile as the last shot went skipping over the water, "you're devilish fond o' fireworks, to waste good powder so far from home!"

Ben mumbled out that he had plenty of powder, and that some fools didn't know fireworks from war.

M. Radisson said he was glad there was plenty of powder, there would doubtless be use found for it, and he knew fools oft mistook fireworks for war.